


Merely the Lesson

by redpetaledfury



Category: Iron Fist (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Martial Arts, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Hand academy is basically just Hogwarts for ninjas, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpetaledfury/pseuds/redpetaledfury
Summary: Exploring Colleen’s time at the academy for the Hand, and her relationship with Bakuto while she was there.





	Merely the Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have only a passing familiarity with martial arts, enough to know a little bit about how to write them while also get myself into trouble. So I’ve tried to be vague. Any critiques or suggestions, please share and I will try to fix what needs fixing.
> 
> Also: I’ve been intrigued by Colleen’s backstory since I watched the first season of Iron Fist. Does anyone know what happened to her between her training in Japan and joining the Hand in New York? It’s this big blank spot I’m not sure how to fill in. Any clues would be helpful!

And there he was. Bakuto, her sensei, the one who made her smile when he entered a room, the one who pushed her and understood her and directed her energies. The one who had found her, when she felt so lost.

She smiled at him as he took his place before the class.

“Today, we are going to focus on internal energy,” he said, pacing slowly. “Partner up. I want one person to attack, while the other focuses on defending and counter-attacking. Use your energy sparingly. Deflect, rather than expending.” Bakuto looked at them all. 

“See how many ways you can land blows without increasing the risk of harm. Focus inwards.” One by one, he met each student’s gaze. “Begin.”

Colleen caught the eyes of a student named Anna, someone she had worked with before. (It was always good to have a working knowledge of the energy of one’s partner.) The other girl nodded back, and they found a corner to practice in.

Colleen acted as attacker first. Beginning with a series of quick strikes (which her opponent easily avoided), she moved into grappling range. Hip to hip, she avoided the inner line and went for a simple rear-leg takedown.

Anna was not pushed off-balance so easily though. She twisted, ducking under the attempted grab and shoving Colleen forward. Colleen did a forward roll, coming up with long-practiced grace. But Anna was on her, throwing hits as fast as she could, keeping Colleen off her guard…

“Hold,” said a voice near them. Bakuto had come to observe. “That’s not the exercise, Anna,” he said gently.

She stopped, breathing quickly. “But sensei, I had her on the ropes.”

“I know,” he replied, “and you were doing marvellously. But remember: Colleen is the attacker here. The entire point of internal energy is to use your enemy’s force against her; to redirect it to her own destruction. You may be winning, but you’re using too much energy to get there.”

Anna nodded, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Try again,” he commanded.

Colleen could tell that Bakuto’s words had done their job. Anna evaded her as before, but instead of pursuing her, the other girl allowed her to regroup and try again. And the time was not wasted, either. By allowing her enemy to regain the initiative, she was able to center herself, taking extra breaths and observing Colleen’s movements so as to be better prepared. When this strategy resulted in completely pinning Colleen to the ground after a failed throw, Bakuto called “Hold” again.

“Good, Anna,” he complimented to her. She looked at him with pride, practically glowing.

Yeah, he had that effect on people.

But Colleen wasn’t jealous; she didn’t think anybody could be. Bakuto was skilled at paying the right amount of attention to each student in the right moment. He made everyone feel special. You knew where you stood with him, and that was a valuable thing.

They switched roles, and Bakuto moved on. Colleen, for her part, played the defender with ease. Her grandfather had taught her well, and what he hadn’t taught her, she had learned on the streets of New York during her darkest moments.

But this was not the time, nor the place, for such memories.

A well-landed back-blow brought her back to herself, reminding her to be present in the moment. She defended herself against the follow-up punch and continued the exercise.

Bakuto called “Hold” for the entire class. 

“Now we’re going to try something new,” he said. “It will be uncomfortable. We’re going to simulate having an injury during battle - but without permanently harming anyone.” He looked out across the floor. “Colleen.”

She swiftly moved to face him at the front of the room.

“Give me your hand.”

Unquestioning, she held it out.

He took it, gentle but firm. “In battle, you may find yourself injured. Lacking use of part of your body. In pain.” Moving around behind her, he secured her arm up against her back. “In these kinds of moments, having proper command of one’s internal energy can mean the difference between living to fight another day, or dying on a cold floor.”

Untying the belt of his gi, he wrapped one end tightly around Colleen’s wrist. He looped the rest over her shoulder and around her torso, tightening at each step until she was gritting her teeth and hissing from the pain of her arm being pressed against her body in such an unnatural way.

He tied it off, and circled back around.

“When you are uncomfortable, in pain, a part of your attention naturally becomes focused on dealing with that pain,” he said. Without warning, he struck at her; she sidestepped him, but did not strike back. “You must learn to be just as effective a warrior when your attentions are divided in this way.”

He unleashed a flurry of blows, and she deflected them all: sidestepping a punch, leveraging a grab to get outside his line, and aiming a kick at the back of his knees to bring him down. From there she attempted a leg lock, but without the use of her arm it wasn’t as effective as usual, and she was pushed onto her back.

Distracted by the pain of putting weight on her “bad” arm, she kicked him in the head instead, did a backward roll to standing, and gained some distance, breathing evenly.

Bakuto rolled to his feet, rubbing his head where she had kicked him. “So you see — even with a handicap, it is possible to prevail.” He faced Colleen and bowed. She did the same. Then he stepped forward to untie her arm.

“I want you each to attempt this. Have your partner handicap you, and see how well you can meet their attacks. Go.”

Colleen rubbed her shoulder gingerly. That had not been pleasant. Seeing that the class had enough partners without her, she took the time to do some shoulder stretches. She would join them in a few minutes.

“That was nicely done,” said Bakuto, regarding her warmly. “It seems you have a fairly decent grasp of your own internal energy.”

“Thank you, sensei,” Colleen said. She rubbed her shoulder, attempting to massage her overly-stretched muscles. Bakuto came around to take over from her, skillfully digging his fingers into her shoulder and neck muscles to provide relief. She relaxed, grateful. He had strong hands, and he seemed to know just where to put them. “My grandfather -- sometimes told me I had -- a knack for it,” she said haltingly, her focus split between the conversation and the incredible feeling of relief he was providing. “I think --- having to train through puberty -- gives one a certain -- advantage in that regard.”

He finished with her shoulder and let go, looked thoughtful. “How do you mean?”

Colleen turned back around, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Well… having lower energy at certain times of the month. It can be good preparation.”

His eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, that does make sense…” He studied her thoughtfully. “Colleen, I wonder if I might enlist your help in a project.”

“Of course.” Colleen’s heart jumped. Any chance to help her sensei. “What did you have in mind?”

“I have been teaching martial arts for most of my life,” Bakuto said, watching the students practice as he spoke. “And I have always sought to continue perfecting my teaching methods. It’s a never-ending mission,” he said, and smiled wryly, “but one I feel is worthy of pursuit.”

Colleen nodded, smile wavering. (Most of his life? He wasn’t that old…)

“When it comes to the matter of teaching internal energy, including endurance, there are certain methods used in ancient times that were very effective. But taken from those times, they don’t have much place in a modern school.”

“Why is that?” Colleen asked, thinking back to some of the methods her grandfather had used with her. They weren’t exactly kind, but they had been effective.

“They are far too extreme, and undeniably cruel. I’d be facing a number of lawsuits if I tried them!” He laughed lightly, and she smiled. He probably had a point. She could imagine a few of the students here might balk at something that seemed a little too much like torture, no matter how well it improved the body and mind. “And so I’ve been looking for more… subtle, yet no less effective, ways to mimic the progress they inspire.”

Bakuto’s turned his full attention back to Colleen. “What I’m hoping is that you might help me refine some of these methods… and, in the process, hone your own skills as well.”

A slow grin spreading on her face, Colleen ducked her head modestly. “That sounds… fascinating. I would love to help. When could we start?”

His smile blossomed, and he said, “How about tonight? After dinner? We can meet in one of the studios in the Annex building.”

“It’s a date,” she agreed, and he smiled at her again and turned back to the class.

As Bakuto gave further instructions to the students, Colleen kicked herself. A date? Seriously? What if he thought…? He would know she had been kidding, right? Ugh. Damn foot-in-mouth syndrome…

She finished the class a little distracted, but still managing to hand her partner his ass a few times, and that was good enough for today.

~~~

Over the next few weeks, Bakuto and Colleen met three times a week to work on methods for improving internal energy. Having the extra time with him was an incredible honor for her, and he made each session interesting in its own way.

Some nights, it would be a simple handicap of a limb or a joint, like they had practiced in class. Others might involve sensory deprivation, or mild drugs that would confuse her, make her sleepy, make her heart race, make her irritated or carefree. Bakuto was always meticulous about dosage, and he never once gave her something that lasted more than a few hours or delivered any nasty side effects. Once, he had her stay up for an entire night prior to their session, handing her a note to give to her teachers that day so that they would understand why she was tired or wired during their classes. That evening, the sleep deprivation had been tough to tunnel through. Trying to focus on defeating one’s opponent while crashing, delirious from lack of sleep, was _brutal_.

He only tried this the once, however, deciding that the effects were too extreme for their purposes. They had their place, but only at a more advanced level of training.

Once in a while, he would fight her without any handicap or other effect, just to get a sense of her as a fighter. After all, there was only so much he could observe during class, where his attentions were divided between all of his students.

It was a quiet evening at the school; classes had ended for the day and most of the students were in meditation, studying, or spending time with their friends on the campus.

Colleen was full of energy. She had been ruthlessly effective in her classes, landing more than her fair share of blows, and while most of her partners took this in stride, a few of them shot her resentful glances. One even complained. “You’re using too much force,” the girl said, rubbing her arm where they both knew there would soon be a colorful bruise.

A small part of her thought _Well then move faster next time_ , but she clamped down on this feeling, slightly ashamed of herself. Not everybody was ready for that level of force, and treating one’s partner with respect for each person’s comfort level and capabilities was something they drilled into every student here. Instead, she offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I guess I just have a lot of energy today.”

The part of her that cared about people knew that she needed to let up, and start paying more attention to her partners’ needs. But another part of her just wanted to keep planting her opponents decisively into the ground, and not stop.

She arrived for her session with Bakuto a few minutes early, raring to go. While she was waiting, she practiced on a wing chun dummy in the studio. Most practice floors had them. They were good for developing precision, form, and power.

When he arrived, they began to spar without any handicap. Colleen was grateful to be able to let loose, relishing the rush of energy as the fight grew from casual plays to a more intense combat. Colleen was in rare form tonight. She knew she was at the top of her game and it was exhilarating, being able to match him move for move in a way she had rarely done before. He was calm, but she could tell there were times when he was just barely countering her. She found herself trying more ambitious moves, relying on her sense of power and speed to see them through.

The fight culminated in a hold, his arms around her from behind, as she twisted and tried to leverage herself out of it. Damn. He had a grip like an octopus -- every technique she tried was met with a counter. His chest was warm against her back, his body in complete control of hers, his stance never wavering from where it needed to be to balance out her attempts at escape. Finally, she gave a yell of exasperation and stopped struggling.

She was breathing heavily, fuming at her own inability to get out of a hold -- not something she traditionally had trouble with -- and she could also feel his breath, low and even upon her neck. He was not even winded.

“Why did you stop?”

She sighed, frustrated. “I can’t --” and she tried again, without success. “I can’t break your hold.”

His grip remained tight on her. “Remember why we are here, Colleen. That is the key.”

Mentally, she kicked herself. Internal energy. Right. But she thought she had tried…

Slowing her breath, Colleen drew her focus inwards, feeling the weight of his body on hers, cataloguing the various pressures they were exerting on each other through their arms, their hands, their elbows, hips, knees… she breathed, and stilled herself. His arms pinning her, his wrist where it was, his knee digging into the back of hers -- all of it was perfect, exactly where he needed to be to counter all the different ways she knew to break free. Where was the flaw? Where…

Sensing the slightest fluctuation in his balance, she dropped her weight, twisted her arms against her chest, and flipped him.

He landed hard, and she was on him in a second. Trapping him with her knees, hips, and some wicked leverage, she pinned him to the ground and held him there.

“Good,” he breathed.

Doing a back-roll to standing, she offered him a hand up -- and he took it. For a brief moment they were standing close, eyes alight on each other, and Colleen was hit with an incredibly strong feeling, one that she had toyed with before but had always pushed aside.

She wanted him. Badly. Her heart was pounding in her chest from something other than physical exertion, and there was a warmth spreading in her that threatened to burn her up from the inside. She stood looking at him, eyes wild.

Bakuto noticed this, and stepped back. His expression was unreadable. “That was well done, Colleen,” he said quietly.

She blinked, eyes lowering. “Thank you, sensei.” She bowed, and he did so as well.

“I do think it’s interesting, that you have trouble tapping into your internal energy sometimes,” he commented, as they gathered their gear and turned out the lights.

“I just had a lot of nervous energy today,” said Colleen casually, trying to make light of what had just passed between them. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the way she had been looking at him.

But then, he was probably used to it, wasn’t he? She couldn’t be the first student to have feelings for her instructor. And for someone like Bakuto, with his incredible charisma, she bet he had strategies for dealing with that sort of thing. If it got out of hand.

Which it wouldn’t, here, she told herself firmly. She would not be a problem.

She needed to focus on being a student, that was all.

They said good night, and Colleen made her way back to her dorm. The night’s events, the memory of Bakuto wrapped around her, in complete control, burned through her thoughts.

Maybe she would take a cold shower.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from a quote I found on the internets, attributed to Jacalyn Smith (although I have been unable to find out who that is): “Sometimes we are the student. Sometimes we are the master. And sometimes we are merely the lesson.”


End file.
